


London Bliss

by Lasgalendil



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Gay Bucky Barnes, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Pranks and Practical Jokes, The pub scene, Top Peggy Carter, World War Threesome, eight years later and there's STILL no heterosexual explanation for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 16:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: Wherein the best of friends mustn't, actually, part.





	London Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Better Than To Bend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385441) by [silentwalrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwalrus/pseuds/silentwalrus). 



“Oh-eight hundred, Captain,” Peggy intoned with her lowest voice and best bedroom eyes. And if that wasn’t an invitation to spend the night even Captain Steven Grant ‘longest conversation I’ve ever had with one’ Rogers could not mistake, she wouldn’t know what was.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said. Copy. I read you, loud and clear. “I’ll be there.”

“I’m invisible,” she heard Barnes mutter behind her.  “I’m turning into you. It’s like some kind of horrible dream.”

“Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she’s got a friend,” she glanced back to see Steve squeeze his shoulder in consolation. And that smile. Oh, that watery smile. Barnes was breaking her bloody heart, and Steve was absolutely oblivious.

Oh, sod it. She wasn’t about to be the woman who broke up David and Jonathan. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. She was, however, perfectly content to be the woman who fucked them both. “No,” Peggy purred, stalking back towards them to reel Barnes in by his lapels. “But Steve does.”

“Jesus Christ,” Barnes bit his lips. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

* * *

 

There was an awkward ride back to Falsworth manor, with their young OSS driver resolutely _not_ looking into the rearview mirror, where within thirty seconds her brassiere was off and Steve’s shirt had lost at least five buttons. She moved one of Steve’s large hands down from cupping her breasts to stroke between her thighs, circling his palm against her sex. Barnes had latched onto one of Steve’s perfect tits, licking and sucking, and Peggy wasted no time in unbuttoning Steve’s trousers, shoving Barnes’ head down, her fist in his hair. She guided him up and down with long, slow movements of her wrist, and Barnes sucked dick like he was born to it, cheeks hollowed and lips pulled over his teeth. Steve, the Allies’ stalwart and steady and true bastion of liberty, justice, and the American way,  lasted perhaps six seconds.

Barnes sat up and coughed, wiped the tears from his eyes, dabbing at his dribbling mouth. She leaned forward and kissed him, hard, his face now a sticky mess of drool and come and her red lipstick. Steve just about came again on the spot.

“Jesus Christ,” he wheezed. “Jesus fucking Henry Christ.”

* * *

 

“So how are we, uh—“ Steve asked, arms held stiffly at his sides.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Barnes bit him from flushed neck to nipples, struggling with his own belt. “Man with a plan my ass. Shut _up_ , Steve.”

“You’re in the middle, darling,” Peggy insisted, kissing down Steve’s broad shoulders, her bare breasts against his back. “Everything else is inconsequential.”

* * *

 She woke warm and well-sexed and sated, content to drowse against Steve while sunlight streamed through the windows. She couldn’t feel Barnes’ warmth anywhere. She peeked her head above Steve’s chest to search the rumpled covers, but their bedfellow was nowhere to be found.

The door slammed open with a cacophonous roar. Steve shrieked awake and went sprawling for his shield. She herself had her Walther PPK raised from the bedside table and jammed into Barnes’ smug face when her brain finally registered the sound was not, in fact, an air raid, but a recording of forty-odd USO chorus girls belting ' _Star Spangled-Man With A Plan_ '.

“Rise and shine, sweethearts,” Barnes sang, moving the needle from an antique gilded gramophone, the assorted commandos howling in the background. “It’s oh-eight hundred, and the two of you’ve got a meeting with Howard Stark.”

“Jesus bloody Christ,” Peggy stuffed the pistol into her garter, hastily tying her dressing gown. “Jesus bloody Henry fucking Christ.” These boys would be the death of her.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, you filthy animals.


End file.
